


An Extended Metaphor

by DarkGreenPoop



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:17:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkGreenPoop/pseuds/DarkGreenPoop
Summary: After the events of the film, Newt found an alive Credence Barebone and set off on fantastic creature adventures with his new sidekick in tow.They take a quick detour in upstate New York and encounter a terrifying beast.Ie. Graves has become a fairy. Literally.





	An Extended Metaphor

“Really, they’ve been picked apart by Augureys, this population,” Newt explained to Credence, twisting behind him to give a polite proxy for eye contact. “You’d think Americans would know better than to import foreign creatures after the incident with the Fwoopers, dear god, they picked off-”

“Um, Newt,” Credence interrupted. Newt stopped. 

“Is there something dangerous behind me?” Newt stared past Credence’s shoulder, eyeing the jagged trail of craggy rocks atop rushing waves that they stood on. Darn. Few escape routes. 

“Well,” Credence replied. Newt glanced at his expression: furrowed brows, twisted lips, not quite threatened but very confused. Newt turned slowly around. 

A pukwudgie glared up at him, an impressive one foot of knobby joints and sharp features. Newt noted his small tomahawk. 

“Just passing through,” Newt informed him. The pukwudgie kept glaring. 

“He’s kind of cute,” Credence observed. This was when it all went to hell. 

\--

“Dear god why can’t we apparate,” Credence screeched, as they ran back the way they came through uneven dirt roads. Newt said nothing, and the hoard of pukwudgies shouted insults after them. 

_It’s probably some kind of pukwudgie magic. Fascinating_ , he thought. He kept this to himself, however. It wouldn’t do to waste breath when they needed it for the sprint. A small poison dart bounced off his shield charm and into a tree ahead of them. The trunk began to melt. Credence moaned in horror. 

“Ya nasty English ginger!” yelled the original Pukwudgie. “Get back here so I can make you into haggis!” 

_Well I’m not Scottish_ , Newt thought. He didn’t know how much longer they could run. He also would rather not stun the little pukwudgies. It was all Credence’s fault really, not theirs. These creatures were certainly not dangerous. 

Another dart hit a rock and it exploded. 

Credence began to look a bit unstable. He was pale and shaking, breathing like a pregnant woman in the last throes of labor. More worryingly, wisps of black smoke began to pour from his ears. 

“You can control it Credence!” Newt yelled. “It’s a part of you now! No longer a parasite!” 

“Newt I don’t think I want to,” Credence gasped in a rush. True worry began to bubble up--just the slightest bit--in Newt. The pukwudgies! Credence would hurt them! 

It was at that moment that somebody grabbed them both by the shoulders and apparated them. 

Newt fell to the ground, coughing as a dust cloud surrounded him at the impact. 

“Newt,” Credence groaned, obviously in Obscurus-related angst. 

“It’s all right, Credence,” Newt proclaimed. “Everything is fine. Don’t worry.” He hauled himself up, digging an elbow into the dirt, and looked up. 

A rather interesting creature peered back at him. It was the size of a human. However, it had wings that looked like those of a fairy sprouting from its back, casting a great shadow over it. Its eyes were completely black. 

“What have we here?” Newt asked in poorly hidden delight. 

Credence gasped. “Mr. Graves?” 

Newt squinted. Now that he took a look at the thing’s features and haircut, it really was Mr. Graves. Its dense eyebrows were furrowed in consternation, and its undercut was suspiciously neat and well-maintained. It even wore Mr. Graves’ familiar suit and robe ensemble, somehow ironed and as clean as if off-the-rack in this environment of dust and mildew. 

“Don’t laugh,” Mr. Graves grunted. “Yes. I know. I’m a-”

“A fairy,” Newt breathed. 

“We all thought you were dead!” Credence exclaimed. “Grindelwald’s been captured. And… everyone assumed…” 

“Well I couldn’t very well go back like this could I?” Mr. Graves snarled. “A fairy! Can you imagine? Even the interns would make jokes behind my back. No. I rather like it here, the mildew smells very nice. It’s an interesting cologne.”

“Mr. Graves, I’ve never met you.” Newt swallowed. “Only Grindelwald’s impersonation of you, really. And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

Mr. Graves sniffed. “Sorry doesn’t fix things does-”

“But may I add you to my collection of creatures and study you?” Newt continued. Credence covered his face with his hands. 

Mr. Graves’ face went through an interesting series of distortions. At first he raised his eyebrows, but then he looked a little sad, frankly, eyes dimming. Then he furrowed his eyebrows again and bared his teeth. Newt dug in his pockets for a notepad.

“Do you think this is funny?” Mr. Graves barked, stalking over to Newt. Newt found his notepad and began scribbling furiously. _This unusually large fairy, the size of a human nearing 6 feet in height, shows no sign of skittishness in the presence of humans. It walks towards me in our first meeting, making aggressive displays. Its wings are unfurling in its rage, much like a regular fairy’s might. It makes human speech, what it says are of no import. Its grooming habits appear-_

Mr. Graves snatched the notepad from Newt’s fingers. He skimmed what Newt had written. His expression of rage somehow managed to intensify. 

“I ought to take you back to those pukwudgies,” Mr. Graves threatened. Credence whimpered. “I ought to apparate you back out there, where you can’t use your wizard magic to escape, and let the pukwudgies make shrunken heads out of you to play footie with.”

“It wasn’t me!” Credence protested. He’d begun to shiver, fuzzing at the edges and emitting black smoke. 

“Shh, shh,” Newt urged. “It’s all right, Mr. Graves. I understand. You’re scared-”

“Merlin’s saggy vasectomied nuts I’m scared!” Mr. Graves shouted. “If anyone should be scared, it’s you, you-”

“I very much like your hair,” Newt stated. Mr. Graves stopped. He flushed. 

“Well thank you,” Mr. Graves twiddled his thumbs. “It took me a bit of time to figure out how to charm it to be dust repellent 24/7.”

 _Fairy vanity_ , Newt noted internally. _Quite._

Mr. Graves paused. He frowned. “Wait. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“My suitcase has a beautiful stream,” Newt coaxed. “There’s hardly any dust at all. Lots of reflective surfaces. I’ll bring back Chanel for you-”

“That’s for women,” Credence whispered. 

“And you can groom yourself a sight better than you are now,” Newt finished.

“What’s wrong with my grooming now?” Graves asked self-consciously. He touched the gray part of his hair. 

“Well you are a stunning fairy, Mr. Graves,” Newt reassured. “The filth in this area just brings you down with it as well, I suppose. Little spots that you can never really get rid of, floating around you.”

“Goddammit,” Graves muttered. “I knew I should have set up in a better burrow.” 

Credence gaped at the both of them, Obscurus having finally retreated.

Newt dragged his case over from next to him and unclasped it. Graves looked at it with a bit of longing. 

“Will there be… shaving tools?” Graves asked in hopeful hushed tones. 

“Yes Mr. Graves.” 

“And you’ll bring me a bit of the cologne? The good kind, the manly scents?”

“Yes Mr. Graves.” 

“Well all right,” Mr. Graves grumbled. “Since you insisted.” 

Newt opened his suitcase and Mr. Graves strode up and into it, not looking at either Credence or Newt as he descended into its depths. Newt closed the case after him. 

“Isn’t he adorable?” Newt asked Credence. Credence looked at Newt’s shining green eyes and felt his breakfast in his throat.

\--

Newt and Credence apparated back to New York City that night--they weren’t far, actually, only upstate. Newt walked up to Tina’s door and knocked. She opened it in her nightgown.

“Newt! Credence! It’s great to see you alive,” Tina said. Newt laughed. Credence did not.

“Tina I have wonderful news,” Newt started. Credence grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Don’t you think you should consult… um… you know? Before you tell anyone?” Credence asked. He eyed Newt’s suitcase with awe and trepidation.

“Oh.” Newt thought for a bit. Mr. Graves did seem very ashamed of his fairy form. 

“You can tell me later.” Tina, ever-perceptive, turned around and ushered them in. “We still have leftovers.” 

Newt and Credence ate their fill that night, and then locked the guest room to discuss. They sat on the floor beside the suitcase, both in pajamas. 

“It’s Mr. Graves,” Credence confided in hushed tones. “This isn’t just a Nundu, or a Lethifold, Newt. It’s the most dangerous creature in existence.”

“Fairies are harmless creatures,” Newt countered. “Of diminutive intelligence, very vain, easy to manipulate, adorable really. Mr. Graves will make an excellent friend to the bowtruckles, they’ll love him. As long as he doesn’t make any eggs. Bowtruckles eat fairy eggs, you know.”

Credence whimpered. Newt didn’t have a clue why.

“I am the resident magizoologist here,” Newt said. He hoped he sounded confident and sure. “I know how to deal with a fairy, no matter how overgrown it is.”

“But it’s Mr. Graves!” Credence whisper-shrieked. The suitcase made a thumping noise. 

“Ah, it’s feeding time.” Newt unclasped the suitcase and laid it out on the floor. He opened it. Mr. Graves emerged.

“Hasn’t your mother ever told you it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs?” Mr. Graves intoned, rising rather ominously from the case. Newt suspected he was using his wings to float upwards, rather than merely walk. Fascinating!

“Urgh,” Credence replied.

“Mr. Graves, what diet have you been persisting on of late? I’m not sure whether to feed you what fairies eat, given your size.” 

“I eat like a person!” Mr. Graves roared. 

“Oh god he’s offended,” Credence murmured, rocking himself back and forth. “He’s going to kill us all.” 

“You better not be shacking up with my best auror, you… red-haired man,” Mr. Graves hissed. “She could do a lot better.”

“My name is Newt Scamander.” Newt delightedly noted the opalescent sheen on Mr. Graves’ skin. “You can call me Mummy.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Newt spotted Credence crawling under a bed to hide.

Mr. Graves wordlessly cast a jelly-legs jinx on Newt, which caused Newt to topple unceremoniously backwards. The back of his head hit the carpet with a muffled thump, and Mr. Graves’ snarling face immediately appeared before him. 

“Hello there,” Newt said. “ _Flying!_. And you can use wizarding magic? Splendid.” 

Mr. Graves caught himself hovering above Newt, and grew red--with embarrassment? Anger? Perhaps both. He floated away to the side of Newt and stood above him instead. 

“I am the Director of Magical Security,” Graves reminded Newt. 

“You’re a fairy!” Newt exclaimed. “That’s infinitely more interesting.” 

“Perhaps you can transfigure yourself human and go to work and be far away from us?” Credence’s muffled voice suggested from under a bed. 

“I can’t,” Graves said. “Grindelwald has done something to prevent me.” 

“Did you stay away from a Grindelwald-ravaged New York City purely because you didn’t want the interns to make fun of you?” Newt asked. 

Graves replied in harsh tones. “No, I truly believed I was a fairy for six goddamn months. I’ve only recently got my head back on right.”

“That sounds like great fun,” Newt said. “Did you do the dance?” 

“Dance?” Credence’s head protruded from his hiding spot.

“Yes,” Newt clarified. “The fairy dance, the mating call. They flutter their wings and then present their behinds, and proceed to sha-” 

“That’s enough!” Graves interjected. “No I didn’t I have no idea what you’re talking about I don’t dance, I’ve never danced, and,” he glared at Newt, whose eyes had glazed over in wonderment. “Don’t imagine it happening!” 

“It’s just that your skin has taken on the sheen,” Newt said. “It means you’re ripe.”

Credence furiously recited Scripture in the background while Graves grew redder and redder. 

It turned out that Graves was not much of a dancer, not really, but a very good hexer. Newt mused that he felt rather bewitched by the fairy. He smiled dreamily past the tentacles sprouting from his cheeks as Credence squawked in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is not actually what this is   
> It’s a joke


End file.
